Another Destiny
by Amarylle
Summary: What happens when Hermione Granger discovers that her recent dreams are, in actuality, memories of a past life? Well, Hermione's, Ginny's, and a few other well loved character's lives are about to change, whether they like it or not. The question is, what does it have to do with Camelot? What's to become of the kingdom, and more importantly, Magic? AU.


**Disclaimer:** Not my rose garden, I'm just tending to it. Everything else belongs to the appropriate parties.

* * *

She was dreaming.

Again.

She didn't know where she was, but she was terribly frightened. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, and she had trouble breathing. Her back was resting against a cold, slippery surface, her eyes desperately shut.

She was afraid – every noise, every sound a threat.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, hiding her face under her hair, pretending that no one could get to her.

She knew that they were looking, and she also knew that eventually someone would find her.

It was inevitable.

_Unavoidable._

She had been running from herself for far too long.

She was a monster – cursed to turn into a bloodthirsty magical beast with an insatiable desire to kill.

On the stroke of midnight, she lost control, the urges of a ruthless predator overtaking her senses.

She tried to fight it, but the foreign magic was unyielding. She was rendered powerless.

She tightened her hold on herself, her body jerking when she heard footsteps. She nervously looked around, visibly calming at the sight of the tall man.

She didn't know why he would bother with her, but she was grateful.

He had brought her food.

_Again._

"I know, I'm late again. Sorry. But, er," he began talking fast. She could only pay attention to his first few words, then she tuned him out, just listening to the sound of his voice.

It was soft.

Soothing.

_Safe._

She trusted him, heaven only knew why, but she did.

"Strawberries," she distractedly said to him. It was the first thing that came to her mind.

She flushed.

The man cleared his throat, and gently rubbed his hands together.

"_Blóstma,_" he whispered.

She could see the faint flash of magic seeping through his fingers, his eyes flashing gold.

Her eyes were filled with warmth as he uncovered his hand, revealing a bright red rose.

"That's not a strawberry," she softly said, mirth dancing in her eyes.

"It's the right colour," the man chuckled, reaching for her hand.

She felt like her heart had transmorphed into butterflies – translucent wings fluttering in her stomach at his touch.

"Why are you so good to me?" she wondered, swallowing hard.

"Because I can't help it. I don't know. Because I," he replied, his answer left unfinished.

His voice faded.

Colours melted into one another, everything blurred.

And then with a gasp of air, Hermione Granger was jolted awake.

"Please not again," a sleepy voice quietly mumbled.

"I'm sorry, Gin," Hermione apologized, as she wiped a wayward teardrop away.

Ginny heard the tremor in Hermione's voice. Her eyes snapped open, and she carefully climbed down from the top bunk to soothe her best friend.

"Scoot," she nudged the older girl so she could sit on the bed. "Did you have another dream?"

Hermione made some space for the redhead, and nodded. "Yes," she swallowed. "It felt so real," she paused. "Too real."

Ginny hummed thoughtfully. "When did you start dreaming so vividly?"

"Um," the brunette blinked. "I always had strange dreams, however, it was some time after the Department of Mysteries fiasco when I started dreaming of this frightened girl and the man who takes care of her," she admitted. "It's very odd, though. It always feels like that this girl, _uh_," she grimaced.

"Yes?" Ginny leaned forward curiously, eager to know more.

"Well," Hermione cleared her throat. "When I'm dreaming about the life of this girl, I dream as though I _am_ her."

The younger girl's eyes widened. She was stunned. She recognized that these dreams were significant. She had a feeling that she knew what was going on with her friend, and she was certain that Hermione was _not_ going to like it.

Ginny inwardly winced, took a deep breath, and spoke. "I think there's a good chance that you're dreaming about a past life, 'Mione."

Hermione jerked backwards. "That's preposterous!" she exclaimed.

"It's not," the young Gryffindor witch softly said. "It's not common, but sometimes a witch or wizard who died before their time, with their destiny left unfinished, get reincarnated."

"You know I love you, Ginny, but that's absurd," Hermione vehemently denied. "It can't be true. I don't even have magical blood in my ancestry," she shook her head, pulling her blanket up to cover herself.

Hermione had the urge to hide, to run away.

From her dreams, she knew that the girl was cursed. She didn't know _why_ someone cursed her, or _who_ did it, but she knew that she was hiding. She could recall the terror the girl felt about nightfall, how frightened she was to accidentally hurt _him._

The only flicker of hope that the girl had was the tall man with the kind blue eyes.

Hermione's heart fluttered at the memory.

Who was he?

Why did he affect her so vibrantly?

Ginny's voice startled Hermione. "Hermione," she gently took her hand. "It doesn't matter if you're a Pureblood, Half-Blood, or Muggleborn. Reincarnation doesn't have anything to do with blood. It has everything to do with _Destiny_ and _Fate_."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "You know I don't believe in Divination..." she frowned.

"I know, sweetie," Ginny chuckled. "I'm not saying you should believe in it, but let me ask you a question," she said, her expression serious. "Did you believe in _Magic_ before you got your Hogwarts letter?"

The brunette's eyes widened with shock at the question, and she flushed. "I was excited at the possibility, but if I'm honest, no I didn't," she admitted sheepishly.

The redhead grinned. "Well then, isn't it possible that other mysteries that sound like a fairytale to you, like _Divination,_ are also _real_?" she asked cheekily. "As real as _Magic_ is."

Hermione stared at her best friend, slack-jawed. "You know, Gin, people seriously underestimate your intelligence," she softly chimed, and suddenly tackled the taller girl with a hug. "I'm sorry to say that I've done the same. You are, of course, correct. If I didn't believe in Magic, yet it turned out to be real, then Divination and other fancies I don't believe in deserve the same chance."

Ginny was amused. If it was anybody else, she would have been offended at the remark about her intelligence, but her exceptionally bright bookish friend, whom she considered a sister, had the tendency to be a little oblivious when it came to social niceties.

Books were Hermione Granger's comfort zone, however, when it came to conversation, Hermione found herself stumped more often than not, unless it was of the academic sort.

"It's alright, sweetie," Ginny laughed as she playfully tugged on one of her friend's curls. "I'm the youngest Weasley, and a girl at that, I'm used to being undervalued."

Hermione winced, pulling the redhead even closer to her. "You know, I think of you as my truest friend," she softly admitted. "Harry, Ronald, and I may be friends, and we look out for each other, but they've always had a connection between them that I wasn't privy to," she sadly said. "I think, on some level, they just can't relate to me, and I can't relate to them either in the way they want me to. They don't even try to understand me on a personal level, and that stings a little bit," she sighed, but then she brightened. "But you, Ginny, you're different. You might tease me a little, like they do, but you listen to me, and you understand me. You even challenge me in the best way possible. You make me see things differently, _like Divination_, and make me realize that I still have a lot to learn. Thank you!"

Ginny had tears in her eyes at Hermione's heartfelt words, and it was her turn to squeeze the curly-haired brunette to her. "I'm glad you feel that way," she smiled a watery smile. "I mean, about our friendship. I'm not too thrilled that Harry and Ron don't realize the treasure you are as a person."

"Yeah, well," Hermione shrugged, and laid her head back on the pillow, pulling Ginny down with her. "Please, stay," she pleaded softly. "I don't think I can fall back asleep otherwise."

Hermione sounded more vulnerable than Ginevra Weasley had ever heard her before, so she did the only thing that felt right to her – she wrapped her arms around the petite brunette and wiggled her way under the covers to be more comfortable.

"Thank you," Hermione sleepily mumbled, and burrowed into the warm embrace.

She felt safe.

"Sleep well," Ginny whispered, kissing the other girl's forehead, and closing her eyes.

.oOo.

There were only a few weeks left of the summer holidays before Hermione and her friends would once again board the Hogwarts Express, thus she decided to enjoy the early August sunshine in The Burrow's garden.

She was glad to have a little time for herself, because there was always something happening in the Weasley household. A small smile curved in the corner of Hermione's lips as she thought of how loud and lively the redheads really were.

"Oi, Granger!" a boisterous voice shouted at her, and she inwardly groaned.

_'There goes my much coveted alone time,'_ Hermione thought to herself. "What do you need, Fred?" she asked as she absentmindedly flipped a page in her book.

The Weasley twin froze in his tracks and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How do you know that I'm not George?" he frowned. It was a thing of pride for him and his brother to be able to prank people with their identities. "You're not even looking at me."

Hermione looked up, and grinned at the freckled boy. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know," she teased.

"Don't make me prank the answer out of you," Fred threatened with a playful pout.

"You and I both know that never ends particularly well for you," said Hermione.

"Just wait 'till I tell the world that prim and proper _Prefect_ Granger gives just as good as she gets," Fred chuckled, delighted at the blush colouring the brunette's cheeks.

"Nobody would believe you," she laughed.

Fred frowned, knowing that the witch was right, but then a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "Say, Granger," he smirked. "What do you think about lending that brilliant brain of yours for a worthy cause?"

Hermione glanced at the redhead warily. "I'm almost afraid to ask," she drawled, but raised an eyebrow in question.

"Oh, come on," Fred sighed dramatically. "Don't be so suspicious, I don't bite," he paused. "Much," he winked at her saucily.

"Fred," Hermione groaned, although she was secretly amused by the wizard's antics.

"Alright, alright, you're no fun," he pouted, but then his expression turned serious. "George and I are secretly developing some items for the Order," he whispered. "We've got a pretty good idea of what we need, and we are skilled in applied magic, but we are nowhere near as prepared when it comes to theory and research. We were wondering if you'd be interested in helping us in any way you feel comfortable with?"

Hermione was stunned. She was expecting an audacious request to help with prank products, not _this_. "I'm a bit surprised," she admitted. "As clever and ingenious as you two have always been, I never thought I would see the day when you venture beyond mischief with your creations, however, I'm intrigued by this project," she hummed. "I'll see what I can do to help."

"Brilliant!" Fred beamed at her, ready to pounce, but Hermione stopped him.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," she chuckled. "We do have a fair bit to discuss. I would like to sit down with you and George to talk about your ideas in detail, and then we need to think about how we can fit working together into our schedules, considering that I go back to school next month, and you have WWW to worry about."

"You're the picture perfect model of sensibility, Miss Granger," Fred gently teased, but he was excited that one of the brightest minds of their generation had agreed to invent with them. "I'll speak with Georgie, and we'll let you know when we can have that talk."

"Sounds good," Hermione smiled, turning her attention back to her book.

Fred simply stared at her, shaking his head in amusement at how easily he'd been dismissed in favour of reading. He laughed lowly to himself, and left the girl to her own devices.

Hermione had spent the next few hours reading, her eyelids getting heavy. She rubbed her eyes sleepily, resting her head against the trunk of an english oak tree.

Eventually, she fell asleep.

Hermione found herself hiding in the same tunnel, like before, her heart filled with dread at the thought of being discovered.

She shrank back when someone touched her shoulder.

"It's all right. It's okay. It's me," she heard the low voice of the kind man, and she calmed a little.

Hermione could have sworn that the man had shared his name with her, but for some reason, her knowledge of it was blocked.

No matter how hard she tried to focus, the name was filtered out of her consciousness.

"Look," he gently smiled, and held out an armful of bread, cheese, and meat.

She accepted the food with wide eyes, and tore into it with gusto.

She was hungry.

"It's _good,_" she said with a small smile, relaxing a little more in his company.

"Believe me, it's fit for a prince," he grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

He looked around, spotting a few nearby candles, lighting them with a wave of his hand.

Then his eyes wandered to her arm, his gaze burning her skin.

She swallowed hard and glanced at her inner arm, her fingertips running over the small tattoo.

"Is that a druid symbol?" he asked curiously.

She nodded, too emotional to speak.

She loved her home and she loved her people, but her curse had ruined everything...

She had been banished from her kind.

She felt teardrops pooling in the corner of her eyes, but she refused to cry.

"Were you born a druid?" the man with the red neckerchief inquired.

She glanced at him.

He was staring at her with inquisitive eyes, and her stomach tightened with a touch of discomfort. She knew it was dangerous to be recognized as a druid in this kingdom, thus she hesitated answering his question.

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" she asked in a small voice.

His cheeks flushed with colour. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," he mumbled, embarrassed.

She averted her gaze. She didn't mean to make him feel uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I understand," he smiled.

She shook her head, looking down at her lap. "You could never understand."

The tall man was quiet for a few moments, then spoke with a gentle voice. "I know what it's like to keep secrets," he admitted.

She looked up at him, searching his face for any emotion, until she had found what she was looking for – genuine sincerity.

There was also a glimmer in his eyes that told her that he related to her on a personal level.

A soft puff of air escaped her lips as she exhaled, and she nodded. She supposed he _did_ understand, after all, he was also magical.

"Does anyone know you have magic?" she asked curiously.

"Only you. And one other person. He knows, but I'm not sure he understands," he sighed.

She looked at his expression, it was wistful. She could relate to that. She missed her people.

"I wish I was like everyone else," she confessed quietly. "But..."

"You always know, deep down, you're not?" the man mused.

"Because I'm cursed," she sadly said.

She wished that she could turn back time and avoid being cursed by a vengeful Sorceress, but unfortunately, she did _not_ have that particular power.

She knew that she had an affinity to other areas of Magic, but her curse had overtaken her life completely.

She was scared all the time.

She was constantly running from herself, from the cold hard truth that she was nothing but a murderess.

"Freya, don't say that," he softly pleaded, and Hermione's breath had caught in her throat at the name. "Magic doesn't have to be a curse. It can be a gift. Look," he smiled, and focused on the candles. "_Hoppaþ nu swicae swá lig flíehen._"

The Sorcerer whispered his spell, his bright blue eyes flashing gold, and all the candles providing light had suddenly floated around them.

Her eyes widened slightly as she admired his skill, and the way the flames had danced in the air.

"Beautiful," she murmured.

She kept staring at the flame of the candles – it was almost like she was slipping into some kind of trance.

Then everything went black, and Hermione was jolted awake by a pair of hands shaking her shoulders.

"Hermione?" a concerned voice called out to her.

The curly-haired witch opened her eyes blearily. "Ginny?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Did your book bore you to sleep?" the redhead gently teased, but then she got serious. "Are you okay? You're terribly pale."

Hermione carefully sat up straight, and massaged her neck to ease the throbbing ache in it. "I'm fine," she said. "Well, mostly fine," she corrected herself, and took a deep breath. "I've had another dream."

Ginny tensed in alarm. "Was it bad?" she asked fearfully.

From what Hermione shared with her about her dreams, some of them definitely sounded more like nightmares, and Ginny was therefore worried about her best friend's peace of mind.

Hermione shook her head. "Not this time," she reassured the younger witch. "I've actually learned a few things."

"Oh? Let's hear it then."

"The girl's name is Freya," Hermione said. "And I think she's a druid."

Ginny's eyes widened. She was stunned. "A-are you sure?"

"Yes," the curly-haired brunette replied. "You seem shocked. Why?"

Ginny took a deep breath and ran a hand through her long hair in frustration. "Sometimes I forget you weren't raised in the magical world," she muttered to herself. "Hermione, druids are only ever mentioned in tales of myth anymore. They were an incredibly secretive race in their time, and they were hunted for their power and abilities. As far as the magical world knows, druids are merely a fable, a whisper in the wind. If anyone ever has the honour of meeting them, they don't talk about it."

Hermione swallowed hard, and nodded. "I understand," she chimed, her expression thoughtful. She wanted to know more. She wondered if there were any books on druids in the Hogwarts Library. _Perhaps in the Restricted Section?_ "I want to do some research, however," she admitted.

Ginny's eyes flickered, and she tugged on Hermione's hands. "'Mione, please be _careful_," she warned. "People don't just look up information on druids without reason. These are dangerous times, and if the wrong person gets wind of your interest, it could have disastrous consequences," she swallowed. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Hermione looked solemn. "I promise to be very careful," she softly said, squeezing her best friend's hand. "I'm starting to think that my dreams _do_ mean something," she confessed. "I'm not saying that I believe your theory about Freya being a past incarnation of mine, but I have a gut feeling there's something I'm meant to discover. It's unsettling."

"You wouldn't be Hermione Granger if you believed in reincarnation without indisputable evidence," Ginny softly said. "But Hermione, please promise me that you won't mention your dreams to anyone," she pleaded with her. "It's important that we keep this quiet."

"Not even Harry and Ron?" the brunette asked, although she had a hunch she knew the answer.

"Not even them, Hermione," Ginevra firmly said. "I know they're your friends, and Harry has a protective streak a mile long, but his mind is also connected to Voldemort. It would be unwise to test just how deep that connection goes."

Hermione nodded. "That's what I figured you'd say," she smiled. "I don't mind keeping this a secret from them. I have a feeling they wouldn't understand. To be honest, _I_ have a hard time understanding this myself, and that would just throw the boys for a loop. They keep assuming I know everything there's to know about everything, which is absolutely ludicrous."

Ginny laughed. "Well, you're definitely the brightest witch I know," she winked at her. "But I understand how that could be exhausting."

"Ginny, you know far more about the wizarding world and its nuances than I will _ever_ know," Hermione chuckled. "We really don't give you enough credit. You're a very perceptive young witch, and I feel so honoured that you share your knowledge with me on a daily basis. I don't actually know how I would navigate this society without you. They certainly don't give Muggleborns enough information about how to fit in when we get our Hogwarts letter."

"You're very welcome, love," the redhead beamed. "I was really disappointed in Ron that he didn't try explaining things to Harry and you in your first year. But that's Ronald Weasley for you, a Quidditch-obsessed prat."

Hermione laughed. "A somewhat lovable prat, but a prat nevertheless, I agree."

Ginny wriggled her eyebrows playfully. "Lovable, huh?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed with colour. "You know that I didn't mean it like that," she pouted. "You know as well as I that my crush on him didn't last long enough to really call it a crush."

The redhead grinned. "A crush is a crush, even if you were quick to realize that you two likely wouldn't work out."

"Fine," Hermione huffed. "It was a crush," she sighed. "A stupid one. What was I even thinking?"

"You weren't," Ginny teased her friend. "As much as I love Ronnie, you can definitely do better than him. He'll need a homemaker to make him happy, someone who's a bit like Mum. A little housework fairy to cook him tasty meals and do his laundry, bearing him at least a dozen children while he plays professional Quidditch. In contrast to that you need someone to keep up with your intellect, and even prove a challenge, someone who can hold their own against you."

Hermione's lips curled into a fond smile. "You know us well, Gin," she chuckled.

"I certainly do," Ginny smirked. "And don't you forget it! Now, let's get going before Mum decides to fry our arses for dinner," she warned, and the girls made a mad dash for the kitchen, terrified of Molly Weasley's legendary temper.

If there was one person no Weasley, or honorary Weasley, ever crossed, it was the family matriarch.

* * *

**A/N:** This story has been cooking for a long while now, though unfortunately that still doesn't mean that it's finished, but I'd love to share it with you, nevertheless, if not for anything else, then for gauging your interest. I won't really talk much about the plot, it's basically about reincarnation, romance, adventure, and of course destiny and prophecies. Definitely a lot of things, I'll hunker down to write more chapters if you guys are interested, if not, I still thank you for reading. I certainly had fun writing this so far. :)

**And another disclaimer****:**_ In the dream sequences, I've borrowed a few lines from the script of the appropriate Merlin episode for accuracy's sake._


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